The Captive
by goldieasj
Summary: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are led into a trap by a sadistic outlaw.


**THE CAPTIVE**

**by Goldie**

"Describe the man who gave you this note." Hannibal Heyes looked from the note in his hand to the note-giver, a boy around ten or eleven. A serious boy. Nervous, hopping from foot to foot.

"Well, I guess he was about your height . . ."

Not enough. "Anything else?"

"And . . . corn-colored hair. And . . . a brown jacket."

Closer, but still not enough. Heyes had to be sure. "What color were his eyes?"

"Eyes?" The boy seemed more nervous than ever. The man had been ugly but the boy didn't want to insult his friend by saying it. "Gee, mister, I don't remember. He had mean-looking eyes, I guess."

Mean-looking eyes? Kid Curry? Something wasn't quite right but Heyes didn't miss a beat. "Do you remember his gun?"

At this, a big smile split the boy's face. "I'll say! Handsomest firearm I've ever seen! Polished and shiny and ready. Tied to his leg. Beautiful pistol! I'm going to own one like that some day."

"Here's a down payment." Heyes placed a coin in the boy's hand. "Thanks for bringing me the note."

Now he was satisfied. Right height, hair, jacket. Gun. Heyes had never thought of the Kid's eyes as mean-looking, though. He shrugged it off with a smile, figuring he had never really looked deeply into the Kid's eyes and glad of it. He watched the boy scurry away, tightly clasping his new treasure.

Returning to the chair in his hotel room, Heyes once again perused the note. It was his nature to be suspicious and accurate. The note was written on the back of a weathered flyer for a long-over county fair. The handwriting looked like the Kid's, all right. And it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that the Kid would send him a note instead of showing up in person. Sniffing the note revealed nothing except that it had been handled by hands in leather gloves. No clue there. What had the boy said? He and his family were riding back into town after visiting kin in Holmen, a good forty or fifty miles away. While still in Holmen, they ran into the Kid, who asked if they would deliver the note to his friend Joshua Smith back at their hometown hotel. The Kid had said it would save him some time. He grabbed the first paper at hand – a flyer lying in the dirt – and quickly wrote the note.

It made sense, all right.

Heyes read the note one more time. "Joshua – Met up with old freinds from erly days. You know who i mean. Staying at Holmen Hotel. Come join us soon – Thaddeus." Heyes smiled slightly at the misspelled words. That looked like something the Kid would do, too. Writing in haste would mean he would not concentrate on the grammar and spelling he learned in school. Heyes's smile turned to a frown as he tried to imagine which old friends the Kid was talking about. There were many from their early outlawing days – people who had helped them and people they had helped and acquaintances who had turned into friends. Heyes would have been happy to see most of them again. _Most _– not all. He figured the Kid had run into one of the gangs they had dealt with early, or at least the remaining members. It was intriguing and compelling. The note, of necessity, left out much information.

Heyes leaned back and sighed. He knew he was going to go to Holmen. If for no other reason than to join up with his partner again. It had been two months since he had seen the Kid and, quite frankly, he missed him. They had separated to try to find employment in a time of economic troubles and he, at least, had been successful. He wondered, as always, how the Kid was doing.

But it was second nature to him to be suspicious, and for the umpteenth time, he read the note again. Just to make sure it was from the Kid and not a trap.

It made sense, all right. Heyes was going to Holmen.

* * *

It was an uneventful ride, made more pleasant by the fact that Heyes knew his partner was only a few short hours away. And by the intrigue caused by the unidentified 'old freinds. You know who I mean.' No, he didn't; Hannibal Heyes had absolutely no idea who Kid Curry meant. He wished it was some of his friends from the old Plummer gang, but of course it couldn't be since the Kid never met them. He considered the possibility that it was the Holsum Brothers or Savage Seth and his partner (what was his name again?) or maybe even Clem's cousins. He hoped it was George Reno or Dan Beauville or Smokey Brown or Frank Bassett. These had been good friends and he would have been more than happy to meet up with them again. As he rode along, Heyes realized he was wearing a smile in anticipation of a pleasant surprise.

On the way, he stopped for a sandwich and some hard-boiled eggs at a saloon in a very small town. He engaged the bartender in conversation, trying to elicit information regarding any recent strangers, but ran into a dead end there. No strangers lately except him.

By mid-afternoon, Heyes was on the road again, only a couple of hours away from Holmen according to the bartender. He was in a fine mood. A good lunch, a couple of beers, and the pleasant expectation of meeting up with his partner again amidst a background of old friends. Nothing could be more agreeable, thought Heyes. He looked forward to an evening full of stories and laughter and good companionship.

When the road split, Heyes took the time to study the signboards. "Holmen," it said, went to the right. Nine more miles. A small brown bird was sitting atop the sign, chirping angrily at being interrupted from its nap. Once again, Heyes realized that he was smiling. He reined his horse to the right and allowed it a lazy walk. It was good for both of them. Heyes relaxed and allowed his mind to wander. His thoughts meandered from the many possible 'freinds' to the Kid, his one true friend. And the myriad reasons that they had been friends for so long.

In a couple more miles, he suddenly realized that he was no longer hearing any birdsong. This was odd, for it was a clear fine day. The birds had been active earlier in his ride. What was happening? Hannibal Heyes the outlaw came instantly to alertness. He reined in his horse for a moment and looked behind him and to the sides. He saw nothing to indicate trouble but removed the safety from his gun, anyhow. When he was satisfied that he was safe, he continued on.

His senses were greatly heightened. A short ways on, he thought he heard something. He stopped again and listened. It was the sound of a man or men yelling, coming from the right. The voice or voices carried in the wind. He turned his best ear to the direction of the sound and concentrated. Now he could tell it was the voice of a man in pain. A man who was being attacked and shouting and yelping with pain. Heyes noticed he was not calling out for help.

But he was being attacked, and that did not set well with Heyes's sense of fairness. Heyes quickly dismounted, tied his horse to the nearest bush in order to avoid detection and ran, gun drawn, in the direction of the voice. He did not watch where he was going for he was focused on his destination, and he stumbled over weeds and rocks as he ran. About a hundred yards from the road, Heyes tripped over something and went crashing to the ground. His gun bounced away from him.

He quickly righted himself and was about to reach for his gun when he heard, "Hold it right there, Heyes!" This was so sudden and unexpected that Heyes did not heed the meaning of the words. He turned quickly in the direction of the voice and saw a man pointing a gun at him. The man wore a bandanna over his nose and mouth. Although Heyes could not see the face, he believed he found the voice familiar, albeit indistinguishable. He froze, but his mind moved at lightning speed. Who was this man who obviously recognized him? Why was he hiding his face to avoid detection? He had been in hiding and clearly gotten the drop on Heyes, so the trap had obviously been planned.

Trap!

Heyes had allowed himself to be trapped, in spite of all his precaution! The note from the Kid convinced him there was no possible harm, the anticipation of good friends was too compelling, and the beautiful day drew him into a stupor. Heyes had relaxed. Heyes had allowed himself to be stupid!

All these thoughts crossed his mind in a matter of seconds, convincing him to clear his head and react appropriately. He chose innocence. "What did you call me? You've mixed me up with someone else."

The man with the gun seemed to be angry and amused at the same time. "Skip it, Heyes. I'm not stupid like you. I'm the one who sent you the note."

Heyes tried to register no emotion on his face, but this truly stunned him.

"Ha! Yeah, that's right, Kid Curry wrote what I told him. It's me who who told you to go to the Holmen Hotel. You're not going to get there, though. What took you so long, anyhow? I've been waiting here a couple hours!"

Heyes was having trouble thinking this through. He was stuck on his inability to identify what seemed to be a familiar voice. He was angry that he had allowed himself to fall for a trap. He glanced at his gun, but it was too far away to successfully break for. He suddenly realized with a disagreeable intensity that the man with the gun was wearing Kid Curry's jacket! And, though balding, his hair was approximately the same color as the Kid's and his height was the same as the Kid's.

And he was brandishing Kid Curry's gun! At Heyes!

The man was about to say something else, but they were both surprised by another sudden yell a little further on from the man whom Heyes had been running to save. It was less like a yell and more like a scream. That man was clearly in pain. Heyes made a sudden move for his gun, but froze when the man with the gun yelled at him, "Hold it, Heyes, or I'll shoot!"

Beside himself with anger, Heyes yelled, "What's going on back there?"

But the man with the gun didn't answer. Instead, he called in the direction of the shrieks, "You can stop now, Deke. Come help me." And the screams stopped.

Heyes found himself getting angrier and angrier at having been outsmarted. He watched as another man emerged from behind scrub brush. Perhaps this was the man who was doing the screaming. He was not wearing a bandanna. The screamer asked the man with the gun what he should do. Heyes was unable to place this new man or his voice.

"Get his gun, Deke. All right, Heyes, now we're going to walk back to where Deke just came from. Nice and easy. And don't try anything funny. Remember I've got a gun on you and now Deke does, too."

Heyes started walking back through the brush, painfully aware that the gun that was being held on him was Kid Curry's and the holder of the gun was wearing the Kid's gunbelt and jacket. Several scenarios played themselves out in his mind, but none of them boded well for him or the Kid. As he walked, he glanced back occasionally but his pursuers were following him closely. He asked if he was going in the right direction, really only to hear the man's voice again, but was still not able to place him. A thousand thoughts were speeding through Hannibal Heyes's mind at one time, but suddenly he saw something ahead of him that caused him to stop and gasp in distress.

He had come to a break in the brush and was facing a little clearing in which a ramshackle house and a couple of tiny outbuildings were haphazardly placed. This was clearly a long-abandoned homestead, and the buildings had been ravaged by time but were still standing. There was a small corral with three horses in it, one of them the Kid's. The house had a front porch with a roof supported by two posts.

And tied to one of the posts was Kid Curry!

His gunbelt, jacket and hat, of course, were missing, and his shirt was open, revealing blood on his chest. His head was hung and he was not standing on his own; the ties were supporting him. He appeared to be unconscious.

A little sound escaped from the back of Heyes's throat and he made a run for the Kid, but stopped when he heard the sound of gun hammers cocking. "Hold it, Heyes! That's far enough! Now sit down on the ground!"

Heyes turned to look at his captors with a wild expression on his face. When he saw the man with the bandanna gesture toward the ground, he unwillingly sat down. Both Kid Curry and the safety of the house were still a good ten yards away. Although he desperately wanted to look back at the Kid, he knew it was in his best interests to keep his eyes on his captor. Those eyes held venom.

The man laughed again. "Well, Heyes, this is just how I wanted to see you. On the ground. No gun. And, more importantly . . ." Here he gestured grandly toward the Kid. " . . . no Kid Curry!"

Heyes did not move a muscle.

"Still haven't figured out who I am, have you? Want a clue? Try the Plummer Gang. No? Still haven't got it? Why do they always say you're so smart, Heyes?"

Heyes was beginning to wonder that one himself. He should never – _never – _have allowed himself to be led into a trap. He was almost physically aching to look back at the Kid, but he never moved a muscle, focusing those deep dark eyes with steeled stares of hatred on the man responsible for this predicament.

"Well, maybe I do you an injustice, Heyes. Maybe the reason you don't remember me is that I wasn't with the Plummer Gang all that long. Seems that once you joined, they didn't think they needed me anymore. You and I met once, Heyes, only once. You wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings. I didn't feel quite the same way." Heyes noticed the man was beginning to lose his cool demeanor; the icy edges of anger were creeping into his voice and he was beginning to wave the gun around haphazardly.

But now Heyes remembered him. Remembered him well as a hothead. Couldn't recall his name, though. Couldn't remember why he was kicked out of the gang, either. Too long ago.

"You bought me a beer and I drank it that night, Heyes. We clinked glasses and I drank my beer but someone called you to a poker game and you left your glass behind. You wouldn't be here now if you had drunk that beer, my friend. I put _acid_ in it!"

At this, Heyes's eyes opened wider and he struggled with his equanimity. He did not wish to show emotion in front of his enemy.

But now he remembered who he was dealing with. "Harv Slaughter." Heyes's words were coated in ice. Only his lips moved; his eyes remained riveted. He also remembered the real reason Slaughter had been eliminated from the gang – he was sadistic.

Slaughter laughed. "Got to hand it to you. You finally got it, Heyes." He removed the bandanna from his face. "Recognize me now?"

The face was one of the ugliest Heyes had ever seen, but in fact, no, he did not recognize Slaughter by anything other than his voice and body type. What might once have passed as a handsome face was now a disfigured mess. Scars riddled one side of his face and his mouth turned in that direction in a permanent sneer. His nose was bulbous and had scars on it as well. One side of his face appeared to have been eaten away and the other appeared to be too fat. Heyes found his stomach turning as he looked at this man. He was aware that under normal circumstances he might have felt pity for such a soul, but the fact remained that Slaughter was responsible for holding him captive and for doing – what? – to Kid Curry. Heyes fought down his revulsion and continued to stare.

Slaughter took that as an invitation to continue his story. "Tie his hands, Deke." While Slaughter's accomplice bound Heyes's hands together in front of him, Slaughter talked. "You see, Heyes, after you got me kicked out of the Plummer . . . "

"_I_ had nothing to do with . . . "

"_Shut up!_ You speak only when I want you to. I've got the gun here, Heyes!" The little outburst gave Heyes a clue as to exactly what kind of man he was dealing with. He had heard stories about Harv Slaughter's vicious sadistic treatment of people and only half-believed them. Now he fervently hoped they were not true. Slaughter's temper and his feeling of superiority were apparent, though. Heyes thought once again about Kid Curry, wondering how badly injured he was, desperately wishing he could attend to him. His only hope was to mollycoddle this devil and hopefully catch him – and his friend – off guard.

"Now, like I was saying, after you got me kicked out of the Plummer gang, I didn't have nowhere to go. I struck out on my own for a while. Did well with the ladies – oh, this used to be a strong handsome face," he said as he rubbed his hand over his scars. "But the ladies cost money – which I didn't have any more. Then I heard about the Plummer Gang robbing the gold shipment near Coward Springs and getting away with $30,000. You see, Heyes, _I_ was supposed to be part of that robbery. I was supposed to get my share of the loot."

Heyes asked, "Is that what this is about? Your share of the Plummer robbery loot? That was years ago, Slaughter." Heyes did some quick calculating. "If I remember right, my share was only something like two 's long gone, but I'll get two thousand for you if that's what you want. I know someone who owes me a favor . . . "

Slaughter laughed. His laugh was evil. Everything about him was evil. "You're going to have to be more patient than that, Heyes. Don't worry, you're going to do something for me, all right. But I'll be telling you about that in my own time. Now where was I?"

Deke surprised Heyes by speaking. "You were talking about the $30,000." For some reason, Heyes had assumed Deke couldn't speak. Heyes's day for being duped.

Slaughter looked at him and smiled his crooked smile. Even that was evil. "That's right. You're right, Heyes, I want my share. It should have come to me way back then. For all these years of suffering, I want my share and I want the rest of the $30,000, too. In fact, I want _$50,000._"

Heyes rolled his eyes Heaven-ward. How on earth was he supposed to come up with $50,000?

"Slaughter, listen to me. It's water over the bridge. The money's long gone . . . "

Slaughter pointed the barrel of the gun in Heyes's cheek so hard that it pushed him to the ground. He was trying hard not to lose his composure, Heyes guessed. He was like an animal, his breath coming in short gasps and his eyes bulging out. He paced in front of Heyes, never taking his eyes off him and pointing the gun at him on and off. He appeared too agitated even to speak.

"Take it easy, Harv," cajoled Deke. He looked truly concerned. Heyes wondered what in the hell he and the Kid had gotten themselves into.

After a moment, Slaughter calmed down. He sat on the ground near Heyes and attempted what appeared to be a normal conversation with him. If not for the fact that Heyes's hands were bound and another man was holding a gun on him, all would have appeared well.

"Deke here calls himself my friend," explained Slaughter. Deke smiled at that. "He'll do anything I ask, Heyes. Everyone needs a friend; right, Heyes? Deke used to ride with the same gang that Kid Curry rode with. They were friendly back in those days. He saw the Kid in town yesterday and told me about it. I came up with this plan then." His eyes wandered off as he fondly spoke of his actions in the last few hours; he clearly felt self-important to the point of arrogance. Heyes, albeit with tied hands, tried to find an opportunity to rush him and knock him into Deke, but Deke was watching him too closely for him to risk it. And, of course, the Kid was an easy target.

"Me and Deke bought the Kid a couple of drinks and got real friendly-like. Yeah, the Kid remembered Deke, all right. Deke told him I was a friend but gave me a different name, just in case the Kid'd heard of me. What'd we say?"

"We called you John Smith," said Deke with a smile.

"Yeah, Smith, that's right. Hey, Heyes, that partner of yours can be real friendly! Yeah, we had a good time last night. Few drinks, a little cards, few more drinks. . . I asked him to write something down for me. That note you saw. You see, he told me where you were and he wanted you to join us for a good time. So he wrote that note. He was going to send it by telegraph, but somehow it never quite got to the telegraph office!"

Heyes growled. "The Kid would never have written . . . "

"Yeah, he did, Heyes. You saw it yourself. He said he wished you were there with us and he grabbed the first piece of paper he found and wrote the note. I told him I'd send it when the telegraph office opened in the morning. We had just a fine time last night. The three of us said we were going to go look at some horseflesh today while we waited for you to show up."

"Then what happened?" Heyes was almost afraid to hear.

"I'm afraid Deke and me weren't as honest with Kid Curry as he was with us. Instead we brought him here and got the drop on him." Here both Slaughter and Deke laughed for a while. Heyes glared at them and continued to fret over the Kid.

"I put on his coat and hat – oh! And this nice shiny shooter! - and went out to the road where I found me a nice all-American family on their way to your town. I convinced them to deliver that note for me. They were happy to do it! When I gave them six bits!" He and Deke laughed again.

This angered Heyes even more. "_None _of this is true!" Although he knew it had to be.

Slaughter looked at Heyes by twisting his neck so far around that it looked like his head might fall off. The result was disconcerting. "You haven't been listening, Heyes. Maybe if you listened to people you'd be smarter. You take a look for yourself and tell me Kid Curry's right where he wants to be." Slaughter grabbed Heyes's head and twisted his body around. His strength was great and he caught Heyes off-guard, causing him to fall over in pain. When Heyes sat up again, he was looking at the Kid.

Kid Curry was tied to the porch post with rope. He was still unconscious and his body sagged. If not for the ropes, he would surely be lying on the ground. His shirt was open and now Heyes got a good look at the blood on his chest. Heyes guessed that his face would be bloody, too, but he could not see it as the Kid's head was slumped forward. The blood on his chest was fresh so Heyes knew he had not been shot or he would have heard the gunshot himself. He must have been beaten bloody. The idea sickened and angered him almost to the point of action, but somehow his logical mind prevailed. This was not the time. The time to act would be when he had a chance of being successful. The Kid looked so miserable that Heyes had to avert his eyes. He heard Slaughter and Deke laughing again. When Heyes looked up again, he caught sight of Deke's hands, both of which had been dirtied with blood. Heyes felt an impulse to kill pass through his body. He shuddered.

When Deke and Slaughter had finished laughing at their private joke, Slaughter signaled with the gun for Heyes to enter the house. Deke grabbed Heyes by his jacket collar and brought him roughly to his feet. Heyes walked quickly to the house.

As he passed by the Kid tied to the post, he hesitated, wishing with all his heart that his tormentors would allow him to attend to his friend. But, of course, they pushed him inside. "You're in, he's out," said Slaughter simply. Heyes was able to quickly skim the Kid's condition and determine that he had taken quite a pounding, particularly in the face. The blood on his chest seemed to be coming from his face, for the most part. Heyes was, however, infinitely relieved to hear the Kid's soft groans. At least he was alive!

There was a dirty table with four chairs. Heyes was instructed to sit on one of them. There was no door so Heyes had a good view of the Kid out on the porch. Slaughter appeared to be busy with something but taunted Heyes about the Kid as he worked. It didn't matter to Heyes; at least he could see his friend.

With Deke's help, Slaughter was cooking dinner! In a while, he set a pot of stew and a loaf of stale bread on the table but Heyes refused to eat. Deke and Slaughter sat and partook of the food. At first Slaughter found Heyes's resistance amusing, but gradually he got angry. "Eat, damn it! It's good food! It's safe – we're eating it!" When Heyes still refused, Deke pushed back his chair and moved toward Heyes. It was clear his intentions were to force the food down Heyes's throat, so Heyes reneged and began eating. He found the taste acceptable but it didn't go down well since worry over the Kid was so strong on his mind. When he was done eating, he asked to take some to the Kid.

"No!" yelled Slaughter. In another sudden show of anger, he cleared the table of all the dishes with a wave of his arm. Heyes was startled but did not show it. He saw Deke give Slaughter a look that he'd probably given him many times before, and Slaughter calmed instantly down. In another moment, Slaughter was able to speak clearly, with much less emotion.

"You're going to do a job for me, Heyes," he said. "You're going to find $50,000 and you're going to give it to me. I figure it's my due."

Heyes rolled his eyes. "How . . . "

"Doesn't matter, Heyes. You're going to find $50,000 and the sooner the better. I don't care what bank you rob, or train, or coach. I don't care if you get it from friends or that guy who owes you. The thing is . . . you're going to get it."

Heyes sighed. "I can't do this, Harv. There's no way I can do this." He could tell that Slaughter wasn't even remotely interested in what he was saying. "_Listen to me, Slaughter!_ I can't do this. The banks they have nowadays are unrobbable. And no train or no stagecoach is going to have that much money. They just aren't! And I don't even _know_ anyone who has that kind of money! I can't do it!"

Deke looked at Slaughter with concern, but Slaughter wasn't put off. "Yes, you can, Heyes," he said calmly. "And I'll tell you why. Because Kid Curry stays like that – tied up to that porch post – until you've brought me $50,000. And from the looks of him," here Slaughter turned his head around in the manner that suggested he was more than a little crazy, "he won't last much longer out there." He looked back at Heyes with faked concern on his ugly face. "No, I don't think he'll last much longer at all without help. So this is what you do, Heyes. You think about it tonight. You think real hard all night. And in the morning, you tell me what your plan is. And it better be a good plan, too, Heyes, because if it isn't . . . "

"What, Harv?" Heyes didn't like being threatened any more than he liked ultimatums, which was clear in the tone of his voice. Slaughter did not like this tone.

"Because if it isn't, Heyes, I take a little of what's in that jar on that shelf over the bed, and I put a little of it on your friend Kid Curry. On his face."

Heyes did not know what was in that jar on that shelf over the bed, but he had a pretty good idea. When he saw Deke turn pale but say nothing, his suspicions were confirmed. Clearly Deke was afraid of Slaughter when his partner got into this mood. Clearly he was afraid of what was in the jar.

Anyone in his right mind would be afraid of acid.

And now Heyes knew how Slaughter's face had gotten so badly scarred. He liked to play around with acid and something had backfired on him. Maybe literally. The thought that he would be sadistic enough to use such a weapon on a man who was defenseless was sickening to Heyes. The thought that the man might be Kid Curry was horrifying. Heyes's eyes snuck quickly over to his partner before he was able to stop himself. He had not gotten a good look at the Kid's face, but he wondered now if Deke had already used the acid and it had been the Kid he had heard screaming. He looked at Deke. No, Deke wouldn't do that. He was staring at Slaughter in barely-controlled horror.

Heyes did some calculating. He either had to get the drop on his captors before morning or he had to come up with what sounded like a good plan. He knew he could do the second. He preferred the first.

"Take it easy, Harv," Heyes echoed Deke's earlier words. "You'll get what you want."

Slaughter became docile. He and Deke smiled at each other. Slaughter happily crawled into the bed, taking a blanket and a bottle of whiskey with him. Deke ordered Heyes to lie on the floor and tied his hands to the table leg. Apparently Heyes was expected to spend the night in this position. When he complained, Deke simply said, "Easier for you to think that way." Slaughter laughed. Deke sat down next to the bed and shared the bottle with Slaughter until they both fell asleep, Deke on the floor.

Heyes watched them for a while, noting the amount of alcohol that each ingested. Deke took in only a small portion compared to Slaughter. Slaughter would be out for a while, Heyes figured, but Deke's sleep might be light.

Heyes lost no time working on the ties that bound his hands. He was able to reach one of the rope ends with his fingers, but pulling on it did no good. He worked noiselessly, as only a practiced bank robber could. He kept his eyes on Deke and Slaughter, watching for any signs of wakefulness, but occasionally he allowed his gaze to be averted to the Kid, who had not moved. Each time he saw his partner, he regretted it. The sight of the Kid tied to the porch post, his body slumped to the length of the bindings and blood on his face and chest, sickened Heyes and interrupted his concentration. Each time he had to take a deep breath. While he worked on the ropes, he prayed for his partner.

At one point, Heyes decided that pulling on the rope end was not going to be fruitful. He then maneuvered the rope with his fingers in such a way that he was able to push it forward. He figured if he kept kneading the rope end, he would be able to push it backward through the knot. He concentrated hard and continued working at this task.

In the middle of the night, Heyes heard a sound other than the snoring of his captors. At first he couldn't place it. Then he realized that it was the sound of the Kid groaning fairly loudly. He was coming around! As happy as this made Heyes, he did not want the Kid to awaken Deke and Slaughter.

"Kid!" he whispered loudly, keeping a watchful eye on his captors to be sure of their immobility. "Kid! Be quiet!"

The Kid groaned again. Heyes knew he had not heard. "Kid! Be quiet!" he whispered fiercely.

The Kid was in pain. He rolled his head upward and struggled to open his eyes.

This was the first time Heyes had seen his partner's face. It was, as he suspected, bloodied. The blood had long since dried but was quite visible in the moonlight. Heyes could tell that the Kid's cheeks, lips and eyes were bruised. His nose, too, was swollen. Beneath the blood, Heyes could tell that the Kid's face was several colors of purple. He had been beaten badly. He had also been beaten about the chest and shoulders. At least there was no sign of an acid attack. Heyes drew in his breath, changing his prayer of recovery for the Kid to one of revenge against the man who did this to him.

The Kid rolled his head slightly and opened his eyes. He seemed to be unsure of his situation but then he obviously remembered as he groaned and struggled against the ropes.

"Kid!" Heyes whispered again. This time he was rewarded with the Kid turning his head and making eye contact with him. Heyes was ecstatic. He cast a quick glance back at his captors and then attempted to communicate with the Kid. "Kid, are you all right? Don't say anything, just move your head!" he whispered furiously.

The Kid thought about it for a minute, then shook his head "yes." Heyes knew the Kid certainly wasn't all right, but he was lucid enough to respond appropriately and that was good enough for a while. Heyes felt a tremendous weight being lifted and he gave the Kid a bittersweet smile. The Kid tried to smile, too, but grimaced in pain at the attempt.

Apparently their meager communication had disturbed the sleep of one of their captors, for Deke suddenly snorted and coughed and woke up. Heyes said no more, but gave the Kid instructions with his eyes to continue to pretend to be unconscious. Heyes and the Kid were used to this kind of communication and the Kid did as he was instructed, rolling his head down again and shutting his eyes. Heyes hid the loose rope end behind his hand. He regretted being forced to let go of it, but there was no choice.

Deke gave Heyes a look and then stepped outside to check on the Kid. He walked around the side of the house to relieve himself and ignored the Kid as he came back inside. Heyes pretended to be sleeping. Deke pushed him forward to check on his bonds. Satisfied, he sat down next to Slaughter once again and took a few swigs out of the whiskey bottle. In a little while, he was asleep and snoring again. Heyes breathed a soft sigh of relief.

Heyes struggled to regain the rope end with his fingers so he could continue his task, but the rope kept moving just out of his reach. When the Kid looked back at him, he gave him a look of frustration, but he kept trying. What Heyes did not know was that Kid Curry was also attempting to free himself from his ropes.

The Kid had been tied to the post to ensure he did not escape the beating and for maximum exposure afterward. Slaughter had removed his gunbelt, jacket and hat and taken them for himself. The Kid had then been ordered to back up to the post and put his hands behind him. Deke tied him across the legs and across the chest and tucked his hands inside the front rope. It was a binding designed to work well during the beating, for the more the Kid tensed up, the harder it would be to move his hands. However, now, after having been unconscious, the Kid found that his hands were no longer tight within the bindings. His unconscious body had slipped to stretch the length of the ropes and when he stood now the ropes were loose. He tried to whisper that to Heyes but his swollen mouth made it impossible for him to speak. Heyes merely thought he was trying to smile and returned a buffering smile back.

But the Kid was actually hard at work.

Heyes struggled to regain his rope end, all the while keeping an eye on his captors. His deft fingers were able to manipulate the end of the rope, but, try as he might, he was unable to actually push it back through the loop. In essence, all he did was tighten the ropes.

On the other hand, the Kid was having more than a little success. His arms were not injured, thankfully, and after a little bit of manipulation, he was able to pull first one, then the other, through the ropes. The bindings that had worked so well to hold him in place during the beating were now useless to hold a man who was not unconscious. The Kid cast a glance at Slaughter and Deke to make sure they had not noticed his movement, then he simply stepped out of the rope bindings. He rubbed his arms gently, then his legs, then felt his face. He grimaced as he realized how badly he had been beaten. The pain was beginning to affect him.

Heyes, meanwhile, caught sight of the Kid just as he was emerging from the bindings. He was afraid to breathe for fear of jinxing the situation. He, too, cast a glance in the direction of their captors. But Deke and Slaughter slept on.

Heyes nodded for the Kid to come untie him, but the Kid was already on the way. As quietly as he could manage, the Kid crept toward Heyes. When he reached him, he dropped to his knees and worked to untie his partner's bound hands. This was the closest Heyes had come to seeing the Kid's wounds, and he was appalled. It had been several hours, and the Kid had a swollen face and two black eyes. It looked like his nose had been broken, and his mouth and throat were swollen, too. Heyes mouthed the silent word "Thanks," but it was unnecessary. It was the only sign of affection between them for the time being, for as soon as Heyes was free, he became all business. He signaled for the Kid to return to the front porch and assume his previous position, pretending to still be bound. This the Kid did, as quietly as possible.

Heyes crept on all fours toward Slaughter and Deke. This is where the Kid's gunbelt was – on the bedpost, hanging between the two snoring outlaws. Deke's gun was in his gunbelt which was tied to his thigh. Heyes most likely could not reach this gun without awakening Deke. He aimed for the belt on the post.

Within inches of both sleeping men, Heyes reached for the gun and slowly pulled it from its place in the gunbelt. As always, Heyes marveled at the balance and symmetry of the Kid's gun. It was a pleasure to hold. When he felt it was safely away from Slaughter, Heyes reached for Deke's gun.

But this time he wasn't so lucky. Deke felt the slight pressure of Heyes's arm gracing his hip to reach for the gun. He awakened and assessed the situation immediately. "Harv!" he yelled for his partner, waking him.

Instantly, Heyes threw the Kid's gun to the Kid, who was waiting and caught it. Heyes knew they would have a better chance with the gun in the gunfighter's hand. At the same time, Deke drew his gun and took aim at Heyes.

Kid Curry did not take time to think. He shot Deke, aiming at and hitting his chest. Deke squealed in pain and dropped the gun. Heyes picked it up immediately and moved out of reach of his captors.

This sight upon awakening angered Slaughter. He emitted a sound that seemed more animal than human. It unnerved both Heyes and the Kid. Deke continued to lie on the ground, holding his chest and moaning in pain. "Help me, Harv," he said in a weak voice.

"You bastard, I still want that $50,000," Slaughter said to Heyes, as if nothing had changed.

Heyes did not smile. "More like we'll get the reward on the two of you."

Slaughter was not concerned. "I want that money, Heyes. It's my due. I've been waiting all these years."

"Help your friend there, Harv, he's in pain. Then at first light we'll be taking you in."

Slaughter looked down at Deke as if seeing him for the first time. Deke stopped moaning and looked up at Slaughter with wide-open eyes. "Please help me . . ." he pleaded with his partner. Slaughter made no move to help him. Instead, he reached suddenly and quickly for the shelf above his head. For the glass bottle. With the acid in it.

"Drop the gun, Heyes. You too, Kid," he yelled at them.

Mildly concerned, Heyes and the Kid exchanged a glance. "No, Harv," said Heyes. His quick assessment told him that he and the Kid were a safe distance away.

The sadistic anger that Slaughter was never able to hide had come to the surface again. "Drop it, I said, or he gets the whole bottle!"

It took everyone a second to understand, but it soon became clear that Slaughter was threatening to break the bottle of acid over Deke's head. Deke was the first to realize it and screamed and tried without success to crawl away. "Harv! Please! Heyes! Kid! Please help me!" he cried. Slaughter responded by grabbing him by the coat collar and holding him tight.

"Drop those guns, I said, and kick them over here!"

As much as he disliked Deke for beating him, the Kid did not want to see anyone have to endure being burned with acid. He threw his gun in the direction of Slaughter and it landed at his feet. Heyes was not so quick to act. He felt the same way as the Kid but he still resented Deke's treatment of the Kid and he was still thinking it through, when . . .

Deke, in a show of superhuman strength, reached for the gun that the Kid had tossed their way, grabbed it and shot Slaughter. The bullet only grazed him in the shoulder, but it was enough to cause him to cry out in pain and throw the bottle in the air.

All four of them watched in horror as the bottle made a couple of turns in mid-air and began falling back to the floor. It broke and most of the contents spattered onto Harv Slaughter's chest. The acid immediately started eating through his coat and skin. He jumped to his feet and ran wildly around the room, screaming the whole time and beating at his chest. He screamed profanities at Deke and finally he fell to the floor and begged for someone to shoot him.

Horrified, Heyes and the Kid watched as Deke calmly raised his gun and shot Harv Slaughter between the eyes.

Deke offered no resistance when Heyes gently removed the gun from his hands and tossed it back to the Kid. Heyes told him not to move while he checked on Slaughter. It was an unnecessary statement since Deke no longer appeared to have any energy at all. Heyes knew even from across the room that Slaughter was dead. The acid was still hissing its way through his skin and a stench was beginning. At least Harv Slaughter no longer belonged to this life.

A wearied Hannibal Heyes returned to the table and sat near Deke. The Kid watched from the doorway. "Why'd you do it, Deke?" asked Heyes.

Deke removed his hand from his chest to examine it, noting the blood that slowly oozed between his fingers. He knew he would die soon. He said nothing. His eyes traveled to Slaughter lying lifeless on the floor and he covered his face with his hands. Heyes and the Kid both realized Deke was crying, and, in one huge magnanimous moment, both actually felt sorry for him.

Heyes was the first to shrug this mood. Images of the Kid screaming while being beaten by Deke returned to Heyes's memory and he looked longingly at the Kid. The Kid returned the look and seemed to read his mind. "I'm all right," he said. Wearied, he stayed where he was, leaning heavily against the doorway, his gun hand hanging limply at his side.

Heyes rubbed his face with his hands. He had had enough. Giving the powerless Deke another glance, Heyes rose slowly to his feet and walked over to his partner. He removed his neckerchief with the intention of cleaning the Kid's wounds, but when he was close enough to do so, found himself embracing the Kid instead. The Kid felt his strength abandon him and sunk to his knees. Heyes hung on and lowered him gently.

When he broke the embrace, they were both surprised to see Deke staring at them. "That's all I ever wanted," they heard him say softly.

* * *

At Kid Curry's request, Heyes attended to Deke's gunshot wound before doing anything else, but it was clear to him that Deke had little time left. Heyes rolled up his jacket and put it under Deke's head. He asked again, "Why'd you do it, Deke? We could have thrown sand on him. Water, anything. He was your friend."

Deke looked longingly up at Heyes, tears still evident in his eyes. "No," he whispered. "Not a friend. Not like you." He looked at the Kid and both Heyes and the Kid knew what he meant and exchanged a solemn look. "No," Deke said again. "All I ever wanted was for Harv to be my friend."

"I thought you _were_ friends," Heyes said gently.

Deke shook his head. "No, not like you," he repeated. "Harv didn't care about me. I would have done anything for him . . ."

Heyes waited to hear the rest but there was no more.

* * *

It was a chore that neither wanted to do, but it needed doing. With two dead bodies wrapped in blankets and tied to horses, Heyes and the Kid started the short journey to Holmen. On the way, they discussed the story they would give the local sheriff. Some of it would be the truth, with the necessary omission of their true identities. The Kid's bruised and battered face would make believable the alibi that they had accidentally stumbled upon two outlaws, Deke and Slaughter, and undergone hardship before managing to shoot themselves free. They did not care if they would be believed or not. They had been through a lot, particularly the Kid, and they knew they could make a quick getaway if need be.

Although he did not want to, Heyes made the Kid talk about what he had undergone at Deke's hands. The Kid remembered the severe beating, up to the point he had obviously blacked out. They both knew Deke had done it to impress Slaughter. But they both knew there was nothing that Deke could have done that would have actually impressed Slaughter. Deke had tried for years, probably, to get close to someone who simply did not care. They were both somehow saddened by that, drawing from the positive experience of their own relationship, always so rewarding.

They both knew that, in many ways, Deke had been held captive for years by Slaughter.

And then they rode on in silence.

* * *

_Disclaimer:__ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended_.

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